Last Saturday was the silver anniversary of my birth. So that will make me nominally 25 years old. But technically, I’m about 25 years and 8 and a half months old since I started to exist the moment I was conceived. (And I was about two weeks premature; I was supposed to be born in September, the same month as my dad’s birthday.)

25 years. It seems such a special number to mark such an ordinary day. Oh, I received a birthday greeting through text at an average rate of once every 40 minutes, but in most respects, this is just like any other Saturday. This year is almost the same as last year’s.

I had weird notions at the start of the year to organize and throw my own party for my 25th birthday. The last time I recall having a birthday party was way back in first grade when my parents had the usual birthday pakain during morning recess at school. I didn’t have any other organized celebration after that apart from eat-outs with the family and the occasional palibre in college. But still no party this year. Sayang, you only turn 25 once.

Many people have their quarterlife crisis during this point in their lives. I could say that I’m having my own this year. I used to be quite content and happy for the past years. Now I’m getting periodic bouts of feeling really depressed and very alone.

I’m a loner and introvert by nature. But being a loner and being lonely is quite different. I’ve got lots of friends and I am more sociable and outgoing now than I have ever been. Yet there’s something missing. I think I know what it is, but so far it has eluded me for a few years now. And that yearning has been building up for quite a long time that I’m disturbed by my own feelings.

My birthday wish is that I will finally find the one that will make me feel wanted and less lonely.